


I Am Thee, Thou Art Me

by Sylindara



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And mentions of everyone else - Freeform, M/M, Miso Soup Proposals, s6 aftermath, way after it's no longer relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 18:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15491793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylindara/pseuds/Sylindara
Summary: What if putting Shiro's consciousness in the clone's body melded them together?In which Shiro tries to come to terms with who he is now and what that means. And what Keith means to him.





	I Am Thee, Thou Art Me

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Yin because you said you're anticipating this :p Sorry I took so long this is no longer relevant orz I WAS GOING TO POST THIS BEFORE SDCC AND THE S7 SPOILERS I SWEAR! At least I managed to post this before s7 actually came out.

His eyes are brown.

Out of all that’s happened, out of everything that’s changed, everything that Shiro’s had to endure because there was no other option, it’s this that is somehow too much to bear.

All of his hair might be white now, all of his arm might be metal now, but it’s his eyes - the only thing that had stayed the same all throughout that interminable year, the only thing that had ever stayed the same when his body, his mind, his actions were no longer his - that mock him with the truth: he has control over nothing.

But Keith is in front of him, peering at Shiro with wide, pitying eyes. He can’t lose it here; he can’t do that to Keith again.

He takes a deep shuddering breath. “Go on, let’s get this over with.”

“Okay,” Keith says, subdued. He kneels between Shiro’s seated legs, holding the space razor to Shiro’s face gingerly and running the thick end against his jawline. Shiro keeps as still as he can, trying not to stare at his reflection in the makeshift mirror clasped in his one good hand.

They watch in silence as the small prickles of hair waft down onto the cloth spread out at their feet. The razor plucks each individual hair out painlessly Coran had explained, back when Shiro had first gone to him for a way to stay clean shaven. Back then, the lack of feeling as he watches a part of himself be shorn away had been a relief, one less distraction, one less reason to focus on his body; now it only serves to make the distance between him and what should be his body feel even larger.

Keith clears his throat, leaning in to concentrate on the underside of Shiro’s jaw. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to the new arm they’re making for you. You won’t have to put up with me much longer; you’ll be able to do all this for yourself soon.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, pressing his lips together, “I’m sorry for the trouble. You don’t need to wait on me hand and foot.”

“No!” Keith yelps, the razor twitching in his hand in a way that would have been dangerously close to his jugular if not for the fact that futuristic space razors have no sharp edges. “I didn’t mean it like that! It’s not a bother, Shiro. I’m glad I can help you. Whatever you need.” He takes the razor away, free hand carefully smoothing over where the razor had jerked across Shiro’s skin. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You didn’t,” Shiro hurries to reassure him. “It’s not like you had a blade to my throat.”

Too late, he realises it’s the wrong thing to say. He was the one with the blade to Keith’s throat. He remembers forcing his weight down, mind full of nothing but the need to destroy Keith in all the ways possible, because that was what he had been told. Keith shrinks away, mouth twisting down. “I did. I drew my sword at you. I cut off your arm.”

“You _saved_ me,” Shiro counters, desperate to make Keith see. “I’m the one who-” His eyes linger on the scar that mars Keith’s cheek. “I tried to kill you. I tried to kill everyone. If cutting off Haggar’s hold over me is what it takes to stop me then an arm is more than worth the sacrifice.”

Keith flinches, the hand that had been on Shiro’s neck flying to the scar as if they can pretend it’s not there if they can’t see it. “That wasn’t you, Shiro, that was the clone.”

Shiro opens his mouth, then hesitates. He hasn’t said anything yet, even though he knows he needs to. But it’s been less than a day since he woke up, sleeping through the entire aftermath of Keith’s return, Haggar taking him over, Allura putting him in the clone’s body. Now that he’s awake, it’s time to face the music. Even this small moment of calm as Keith attends to him is more than he deserves. Keith is the last person he wants to burden this with.

“That wasn’t you,” Keith repeats, less sure of himself this time, frowning into Shiro’s eyes. “You’re the original Shiro. You told me yourself. You were stuck in the Black Lion after you...after you died, and then Allura drew you out and into the clone’s body.”

“Yes,” Shiro says finally. “I was Shiro, who died fighting Zarkon and was preserved in the Black Lion’s mindscape. I was the clone, despatched by Haggar to be her spy and agent. Now I am both.”

Keith’s frown deepens. “What does that mean? What do you remember?”

“All of it.” Shiro turns away. “I remember being in the Black Lion while you searched for me. I remember being found floating in space. I remember being inside the Black Lion while I pilot the Black Lion. I remember attacking you all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Keith give a sharp shake of his head. “It was the witch. She made you do it. It’s not your fault, Shiro. Those weren’t your actions, they were _hers_.”

He doesn’t bother trying to argue. Keith is right. At the root of all his actions is the Empire and it’s time to stop denying it. It doesn’t matter whether he’s killing for them or fighting against them. There is nothing left of him that Haggar has not touched.

* * *

Even without the bombshell he just dropped on Keith, Shiro is expecting the others to barge in the moment Keith leaves the Black Lion’s hold. The fact that it’s Pidge with a determined frown that says she will not be denied does not surprise him; the fact that she comes in alone does.

Bracing his left arm against the side of the pod he’s been using as a bed, Shiro shifts around to face her. He knows he’s not much to look at; it’s not as bad as last time, since Keith has just made sure his hair is tamed and stubble removed, but he’s clad in just the Altean undersuit, hasn’t done any more than taking the bulky outer pieces off. He’s far from presentable.

Pidge’s firm strides falter as she reaches him, reticent in a way she’s never been before. “Hey, how are you doing?”

He blinks. Considering what Keith must have told them, this isn’t how he is expecting their reunion to go. “I’ve been better,” he admits, surprise making him more honest than he might have been.

She nods solemnly, stares down at her shuffling feet, then looks back up with a resolve he’s more familiar with. “Keith says you have the clone’s memories?” she asks, plopping down at his feet with aplomb and starts unpacking a convoluted mess of machinery in the space around them.

Shiro finds himself raising his eyebrow at her. It’s so very Pidge to not beat around the bush. “Kind of,” he says, trying to gauge her reaction. A part of him still balks at the idea of talking about it, but he had tried to hide his weakness before and all it did was allow Haggar to use him with the others none the wiser. Maybe if he had actually tried to be forthright it would have never come to this. They might have been able to stop him earlier. It’s not a penance, but it will be worth his discomfort if it means they will be on their guard now. Keith has told him what Pidge had done. Maybe if he gives her enough warning this time her virus can stop him beforehand. “I don’t know if I’m Shiro with the clone’s memories, or the clone who’s absorbed Shiro for good this time.”

“Am I a man who dreamt I was a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming I am a man?” The glare from her glasses hides Pidge’s eyes from him for a moment, then clears as she shrugs. “I’ve read Philosophy for Beginners, but it’s not exactly my field of expertise. I guess the question is, does it matter?”

“It matters,” Shiro says reflexively. It has to matter. “The things I’ve- the clone has done…”

Pidge looks at him steadily, then back down at the hybrid machine she is setting up. Shiro remembers Pidge and Hunk telling him about their plans for it; based on Pidge’s laptop, it’s an unholy mix of Earth technology they finagled from the Space Mall, Altean technology they begged off Coran, and Galran technology they received from Lotor and is apparently capable of doing anything they put their mind to. Right now, it seems to work as a distraction, so Pidge doesn’t have to look at him when she asks, “You don’t think the clone was a different person? That his actions might not be yours?”

“No, those were my actions. I remember every single thing he’s done. I remember the rationale behind all of them. That was me.”

Pidge keeps her eyes on the machine, fingers flying over the keyboard with purpose in contrast to the pensive frown on her face. “Is it really your actions even though Haggar was controlling you?”

He can feel his face twitch. It keeps coming back to this, no matter how much he might want to deny it. “No, I suppose you’re right.” He takes a breath. They need to know so that this can never happen again. “Haggar warned me, actually, when I was fighting her at Central Command. I was meant to be their weapon. Maybe my actions were hers all along.”

“Not all of them.” Pidge laughs weakly. “You’re a paladin, the Leader of Voltron. The bit where the clone- where you fought against us was Haggar’s fault, but the rest of it was all you.”

His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. How does he explain the feeling of...violation, that nothing of him, whether his actions or his feelings or his body, belongs to him anymore? The fear that maybe none of it had ever belonged to him. Not since his capture. He had worked so hard to escape, both times, and Haggar had been planning this whole thing before they even put that arm on him.

Something must show on his face. The tepid humour drains from Pidge’s expression and she stops fiddling with the cable connecting the stump of Shiro’s arm to her mess of machines. “What’s wrong, Shiro?”

He looks at her steadily, trying to keep his expression smooth. “Do you remember what Hunk said before? About the arm having a direct pathway to the brain?”

“And a molecular level storage unit?” Her eyes flicker to the stump then back to his face. “Yeah. And now we know what it was being used for. That’s how the clone had all your memories.”

“Don’t you see what it means? They were planning for this from the very beginning. I thought that I was free of them, that I could regain the life I lost and be who I used to be again. But what if I’m just her puppet following her directions all along?” _What if everything I’ve ever done is for nothing?_

Pidge doesn’t answer immediately, waiting to make sure he’s finished before she stands and sweeps him up in a hug. “It’s not the same, I know, but I’m not who I used to be either.” She draws back a little to stare at him fiercely, her short hair framing her face like a halo. “Maybe if I had a choice I wouldn’t have wanted things to turn out this way, but I don’t think the person I’ve become is all that bad. And the same goes for you, Shiro.”

“I hurt you.” The guilt claws at him, as heavy as it did when he made the confession to Keith. “I tried to kill you all.”

“If we’re talking about regrets, I’ve got mine too,” she retorts, undaunted. “I had a clear shot at you in the hanger. I couldn’t take it. If I had, Keith might never had to do what he did. Allura might never had to do what she did.”

“You did what you could.” The justification comes easily. Mercy is a quality to be celebrated. It isn’t right that her compassion should hurt her. “And you made up for it afterward. I heard that it was your countermeasures that saved the Castle from the virus.”

“Right back at you, Shiro.” Pidge doves back into the hug, arms tight around him as if trying to keep him from flying apart. “You’ve done so much good. You’re the Black Paladin, you’re the Champion, you’re a _hero_. Haggar might have created the clones, but there are a lot of people out there who owe their freedom to the clone too.”

Shiro has no response to that, nothing except hugging her back just as tight.

* * *

 _Want me to call Keith back in?_ Pidge had asked after she had given the stump the all clear. Shiro had demurred, not sure what everyone thinks is between him and Keith and not sure he wants to stir up that hornet’s nest quite yet.

But it reminds him of what happened last time, when he had come back and holed himself up and Keith had to drag him out to reassure everyone. This time, he’s going to go out there himself, without needing to Keith to baby him.

What he isn’t expecting is for everyone else to act differently as well. The moment he walks out, they’re all suddenly crowding around him in a swirl of well-meaning solicitude. Before he knows it, Shiro is settled down in front of a professionally built campfire, someone has flung one of the blankets that must have been swiped from the Castle in its final moments around his shoulders, someone else is making a poor attempt at massaging his back, and a third person has just slid a bowl of...something into his hand only for it to be snatched away and the spoon from the bowl brought in front of his face instead. Looking at the poorly masked concern on everyone’s faces as they encircle him, Shiro can’t help the watery smile spreading on his face. He doesn’t deserve this, but it’s hard to deny himself in the face of everyone’s love.

“How are you feeling, Number One?” Coran asks from around Shiro’s knees, fussing with the edges of the blanket as it pools around Shiro’s seat - what feels like two more of the blankets folded and stacked on top of each other.

“Can you feel all of your extremities? No problems transmitting signals via your nerves?” Allura asks from behind him, the mice squeaking in counterpoint; which means she’s the one massaging his back badly, or possibly not massaging at all since it’s Allura. Maybe she’s checking her work. Maybe it’s supposed to be traditional Altean therapy.

“Here, try this.” Hunk is the one pushing the spoon into his face, the bowl hovering just behind it and emitting an amazingly alluring smell considering the fact that there’s nothing but barren plains around them. He takes a tentative mouthful because he knows he can trust Hunk’s cooking, but he’s not sure he wants to know where the ingredients came from. It’s not from the Castle, he realises immediately. He’s never tasted this while in the Castle. He hasn’t tasted this since he left Earth.

“How…” Shiro licks his lips, grabs the spoon with his left hand and carefully takes another sip. “Where did you find this?”

“From Keith actually.” Hunk thumbs over at where Keith is hovering at the edge of the circle with Krolia, Romelle, and the giant blue wolf. Krolia and the wolf are impossible to read, but Romelle looks faintly anxious, as if she’s not quite sure of everything but sympathises anyway. She ducks her head when she notices Shiro’s attention on them, while Krolia and the wolf remains inscrutable, but Keith is smiling at him the moment he catches Shiro’s eyes. “I didn’t believe it at first either. Especially since it was just Keith shoving some kind of root tuber at me. But it really does taste like it, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, something else to add to the list of unbelievable things Keith comes back with,” Lance says in an overly dramatic tone, wringing his hands together. Hands that were the ones that had given him the bowl in the first place, Shiro realises belatedly. “Space miso soup! How do you find these things??”

“Technically,” Pidge cuts in snottily, having seated herself next to Shiro during the chaos, “it’s not actually miso soup because there’s no soybean, or fungi, or fermentation whatsoever. Keith just chopped up the root into a pot Hunk boiled.”

“Yeah, hence space miso soup,” Lance retorts, shoving another bowl into her face.

As if it’s a sign, everyone gathers around the campfire with soup of their own and Shiro finds his other side now occupied by Keith.

“How is it?” Keith asks, setting a board across Shiro’s knees so that he can balance his bowl on it without needing an extra hand. “I didn’t even believe it myself at first. I know it’s a bit of a joke by this point that we keep finding familiar things in space, but space miso soup is just too much.” He ducks his head as he smiles, and Shiro is hit by the incongruity of Keith’s shyness after everything. Or maybe he’s shy because of everything. His confession still reverberates inside of Shiro, filling up all the empty nooks and crannies inside him. He never wants it to fade.

It takes an age before Shiro realises that Keith is waiting for an answer. “It’s perfect,” he says truthfully. “It tastes just like my memories.”

Keith’s smile widens. “It’s the only thing you knew how to make, of course I remembered the taste. It took me a while, but I had nothing but time on the back of that creature. More than enough time to get it right.”

An old memory stirs in the back of Shiro’s head. When he was still a very young boy, he would sit with his grandfather at the table and watch as his grandmother bustles around the kitchen making miso soup for them; his grandfather smiling widely the whole time. _I’m a traditional man,_ he would say, _which is a nice way of saying I didn’t know how to treat her right. The only words I could give her was my wish to drink her miso soup every day. And yet your grandmother accepted such a clumsy proposal anyway._

It’s the first time he’s thought about his grandfather in a long time, maybe that’s why the words slip out of him. “I wish I could drink this every day.”

“Sure,” Keith says blithely, clearly not knowing what it means to him. “I’ll make it every day for you. Every morning. I’ve already been doing it for Krolia the last two years as practice.”

 _He doesn’t know_ , Shiro tries to tell himself, but it’s difficult to not gape at Keith. Not when the memories of his grandparents still feel so fresh. The others seem to realise it’s a significant moment, all conversation dying out as everyone stares at Shiro staring at Keith. Across from them, Lance chokes on his own soup.

* * *

Shiro doesn’t remember much of the rest of the…meal, if a meagre pot of soup can be called that. Somehow the awkward moment is diffused, the soup consumed, and the campfire tidied away while Shiro tries his best to sink into the ground and pretend the last 20 minutes didn’t happen.

All too soon, Shiro’s bowl and makeshift serving board are whisked away with terrifying competency by Krolia, and he’s left with no reason to linger. But when he makes to stand it’s Lance who squeezes himself by Shiro’s side and proclaims, “I’ll help you, Shiro! Heading back to the Black Lion?”

Shiro looks around awkwardly at everyone as they bustle about setting up a makeshift water system to clean the dishes. Even the wolf is getting into it, a rag from who knows where clenched between its teeth while it dances around Keith. There is no place for him to butt in. “I was actually thinking of having a look around. You don’t need to come with me; I still have two legs, I can walk.”

“Oh, right! Of course!” Lance takes an exaggerated step back, both hands coming up defensively. “I didn’t mean it like that! But where do you want to go? I’ll join you!”

There is a determined glint in Lance’s eyes that tells Shiro there’s no point trying to decline. “Let’s just take a short walk around the perimeter then.” He looks around, taking a deep breath of probably fresh air.

Lance falls into step easily as they start the sweep, hands lingering awkwardly by his hips as if he had tried to put them into his pockets and forgot that their Altean armour don’t have any. “This is the first time you’ve been out here since...” he muses self-consciously, looking out at some point in the distance. “Well, _you_ know.”

“Yeah,” Shiro replies shortly; the self-consciousness is catching. “Lance, I-”

“I’m sorry, Shiro!” Lance interrupts, whirling around to face him. There is a wobble in his voice that Shiro thinks he should probably pretend he doesn’t hear. “You reached out to me. Both of you; the one on the astral plane AND the clone. And I didn’t notice! The clone came to me for help and I blew him off!”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Shiro says as firmly as he can. “You didn’t blow me off, you comforted me. Even when I was being unreasonable, you made allowances for me. Thank you for being kind.” And then, because the tears are threatening to spill from Lance’s eyes, “But maybe you don’t need to be that kind. I can be a dick, Lance, you shouldn’t just put up with that.”

Lance shrugs, eyes falling away but no longer looking like he’s about to burst into tears any minute. “The clone- you were under a lot of stress. And you didn’t ACTUALLY do anything wrong until Haggar took you over. Okay, there’s the thing with Lotor, but he tricked all of us. I’m not gonna blame you for that.”

“We all have our regrets,” Shiro says, Pidge’s words from earlier coming back to him. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“How about this,” says Lance, “we both stop apologising to each other and just try to make up for the past, so we won’t have any _more_ regrets?” The smile he gives Shiro is crooked but filled with resolve. “I still wish I could have done more for you. Maybe if I had realised earlier none of this would have happened. Maybe I could have helped the clone when he- when you came to me.”

“Even though the clone was just a weapon of Haggar’s?” Shiro can’t help but say.

“Even though the clone might have been created to be a weapon,” Lance says firmly, “he was more than that. _You_ are more than that. You’re our friend, Shiro. We care about you. That’s why I wish I could have helped the clone. That’s why I’m going to do all I can to help you from now on.”

Shiro can feel his face softening, the corners of his lips curving up without him quite meaning to.

Lance looks away again, this time with a flush. “And we’re RPG buddies! I sat through your paladin character creation like five times! There’s no bond stronger than that!”

Shiro chuckles. “That _was_ a lot of fun. You think we’ll get the chance to play again even without the holographic interface?”

“Wait, Shiro, don’t tell me-”

Shiro’s smile widens into a smirk. “I do wanna be a paladin again.”

Lance groans, throwing an arm theatrically over his eyes. “Yup, you’re Shiro alright. All of you.”

Shiro chuckles again, facing forward now that their conversation is winding down. They have almost finished their sweep around the perimeter; he can see Keith waiting for them up ahead, by the Black Lion’s left paw. He’s looking over at them, standing tall with his head held high, one hand lying easily on his wolf’s neck as it sits on the ground at his feet. Shiro can’t quite make out his expression from this distance and he’s struck with the sudden urge to walk faster, to bridge that gap between them, to have Keith in his reach.

But Lance is choking again, and Shiro turns to see him whipping his head wildly from Keith, to Shiro, then back. “Wait, that proposition was for real? Keith!? Seriously!? I know he’s bigger, and cooler, and, like, grizzled now, but really!?”

Shiro doesn’t know what surprises him more, the fact that Lance knows about that obscure cultural convention or that Shiro’s infatuation is so obvious. “Lance-”

“Well, I meant what I just said, Shiro.” Lance slings an arm over Shiro’s shoulders with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m going to do all I can to help you, even if it’s getting you together with _Keith_.”

“Wait, Lance-”

“You can do so much better!” Lance leans in conspiratorially. “But don’t you worry, they don’t call me Loverboy Lance for nothing!”

* * *

Somehow Shiro manages to convince Lance that his intervention isn’t necessary. That he’s not really looking for a romantic relationship at the moment isn’t quite a lie, but it’s less to do with his own ‘healing’ as Lance seems to believe and more because Shiro isn’t sure he should be allowed.

The Shiro of before wouldn’t have said that a person needs permission to be in love, everyone should have the right to their feelings and the right to know if someone has feelings for them. But the Shiro of before hadn’t been cloned and mind-controlled to attack his own friends. The Shiro of before hadn’t been tried to break Keith, hadn’t tried to kill him.

He knows that’s not what the others’ think of him- of the clone. Pidge and Lance has made it clear that they will see him and the clone as one person because that’s how he wants it, and that they care for him even with the clone in the equation. Even with all that he’s done. Their faith in him is humbling, and Shiro knows he can do nothing less but make himself worthy of their faith.

But it’s different with Keith. _You’re my brother_ , Keith had said. _I love you_ , Keith had said and refused to let go. It feels like he still has his hold on Shiro, that even now he still hasn’t let go.

“What are you thinking?” Keith knocks gently on the entryway to the Black Lion’s hold as he walks in, a quick warning for Shiro’s jumpy nerves without bringing attention to it. So effortlessly considerate that it threatens to take Shiro’s breath away.

Shiro smiles at him. He can’t help it; even when his thoughts take such a dark turn, he can’t help but smile at Keith. “Hey.”

Keith smiles back. “Hey. How have you been? You looked pretty out of it after your walk with Lance.”

“A bit tired,” Shiro admits, though it hurts to think that just a little walk like that would tire him out so quickly. “I’ve been thinking about the conversation I had with Lance.”

“Oh?” Keith joins him sitting on the hard edge of the pod, leaning forward intently. “Lance came up to me just now actually, was it about the same thing?”

Dread runs down Shiro’s spine. “What did he say to you?”

“Something about the miso soup?” Keith’s face scrunches up adorably. “He said I should ask you what you meant.”

 _Damn it, Lance_. “Don’t listen to him.” Shiro scowls. “I meant what I said, there’s no deeper meaning.”

Keith spears him with a potent look. “So I should make sure to always be by your side? To be with you every morning, so you can drink my miso soup.”

Shiro’s breath catches in his throat. This is Keith reaching out to him. Again. He needs to tell him. This is his chance. Keith is waiting. But he _can’t_.

Keith’s look turns worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Just...that wasn’t really what we were talking about.” Shiro gives his head a sharp shake. “Lance apologised for not helping me when I was under Haggar’s control. So did Pidge actually. As if they could have done something to prevent it.”

“Maybe they could have,” Keith says softly. “I’m sorry too, for not doing more.”

Shiro shakes his head again, slower this time. “There was nothing you could have done. Nothing that you didn’t already do.”

“Maybe you’re right, maybe we couldn’t have done anything. But I’m sorry anyway for what you had to go through.” Keith stares at him with clear, unyielding eyes, eyes that Shiro finds himself hard-pressed to meet.

“Even though I should be the one apologising. Even though I was the one who tried to kill everyone. Tried to kill you.” It’s like he keeps having the same conversation over and over again.

But this time, Keith doesn’t say it was Haggar’s fault. He draws closer, takes Shiro’s face between his hands. “But you didn’t. I stopped you, Shiro. I found you.”

Shiro closes his eyes, takes a breath, and then opens them again. “Thank you, Keith. I should have said this already.” Shiro huffs a bitter laugh. “I should have said this first. Thank you.”

Keith’s face softens. “You’re welcome, Shiro. I told you, as many times as it takes.”

They’re so close, Shiro can see the individual flecks of colour in Keith’s eyes. Maybe he doesn’t deserve it, maybe he doesn’t have the right, but _Keith_ deserves to know. Keith deserves everything. “You’re right. That _is_ what I meant. I want to drink your miso soup every day, Keith. I want you to be here, with me, always.”

Keith’s breath hitches, the flecks of colour overlaid with a watery sheen. “Shiro...I called you my brother, but you are so much more to me, you know that, right?” He draws even closer, close enough that Shiro can feel his next words against his lips. “You are everything to me.”

Shiro bridges the final gap between them, reaching out to cup his one hand on Keith’s face gently, reverently. The words that had been stuck inside him finally break loose. He’s wanted to say it for so long. Ever since Keith said it to him. “I love you too, Keith.”

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what was the most self-indulgent part of this super self-indulgent piece:
> 
> 1\. This Shiro being an amalgam of the original Shiro and the clone  
> 2\. The guilt that's a part of that and the responsibility Shiro takes over all Shiros's actions but also everyone's acceptance of all Shiros and Shiro's acceptance of himself  
> 3\. Keith kneeling between Shiro's legs while he gives him a shave  
> 4\. Keith making miso soup for Shiro  
> 5\. The miso soup proposal in general  
> 6\. All of the above


End file.
